


target practice

by Snowsheba



Series: thanks, dad. love, hana [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Death, Gen, doesn't really make sense as a stand-alone unfortunately, takes place when hana was still in MEKA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: anonymous asked: Writing Prompt: Hana's immediate reaction and thought process after taking her first human, not omnic, life in combat.
  
    (takes place years before the events of thanks, dad. love, hana)





	

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately i was too busy to make anything super long for this prompt… regardless. trigger warning for blood and death, and also keep in mind that i’m not accepting writing prompts - but i do occasionally write requests if they pertain to my interests.
> 
> (also, slightly altered the prompt to suit my interests. apologies!)

“ _Pull the trigger_ ,” her handler says.

The fighter doesn’t look like much, really, and D.Va tries to think of just that as she nods to hereslf - shoulders curling in as she aims the fusion cannons, watching the sights line up on her hub, her breathing steady and slow in her ears. The minimap shows glowing dots for the rest of her squad; Tango’s taken point, scouting a bit further ahead, and MIM is on her left with Apple watching their sixes. MIM is carefully, awfully silent, and D.Va knows that there are thousands of people watching her hesitation as the human in front of her raises her gun. From here, D.Va can’t see the woman too well, but when her MEKA automatically zooms in to enhance her aim, she sees the barrel of the rifle quivering.

“ _Song_ ,” her handler says, sharper this time. Not angry, not yet, but firm. “ _Pull the trigger_.”

Her fingers tense up. They don’t move quite yet, D.Va knows she’s still too far to do any substantial damage, and she sucks in a breath and tries to steady the pounding of her heart. She doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to be doing this, but there’s no choice, it’s either this or -

Tango clicks their comm. “ _All clear ahead, D.Va. Permission to proceed further forward?”  
_

“ _Stay put, Tango_ ,” D.Va says, throat dry. She swallows, hard, and says, “ _MIM, Apple, what’s your status?”  
_

“ _Ready on your command, D.Va_.” To his credit, MIM’s voice doesn’t shake. He sounds carefully detached - bored, almost, nonchalant as he goes on, “ _There are a few more fighters a bit further from our position, ten o’clock. I’ll be taking those on your signal_.”

“ _Clear behind us_ ,” Apple chimes in. _“I’ll be moving up and taking anyone on your two on your signal_.”

“ _You’re stalling_ ,” her handler says as soon as Apple’s ceased speaking, for D.Va’s ears alone. “ _Pull the trigger, Song_.”

The target fires her rifle, once. D.Va doesn’t even think as she hits the button for her defense matrix, deflecting the single bullet with ease, and she urges her mech forward, stomping and _fast, so much faster than she wants_ , and the target scrambles to put some distance as D.Va rapidly closes it. MIM is close behind, already opening fire on some unseen enemy on her hub, and soon D.Va is closer, closer, closer - 

“ _You’re well within lethal distance, Song._ ” The voice is cool, deceptively uncaring. “ _Pull. The. Trigger_.”

“Smile for the camera,” she whispers to herself, and she flashes a bright, vicious smile as she announces to her viewers, “Younger viewers may want to avert their eyes!”

Then her index finger pulls in, the fusion cannon hums to life, there’s blood, and she can’t avert her eyes no matter how much she wants to as the woman’s scream cuts off with a gargling gasp and a choke. She can’t smell anything, can’t really see the woman once she’s fallen to the ground, and she ignores the roaring in her ears and the tight, nauseous clench of her stomach as she struggles to keep her breathing even.

“ _Good_ ,” her handler says. “ _Don’t stop_. _Keep firing_.”

“Go,” D.Va shouts into comm, MIM and Apple rocketing into action behind her, and then, “Tango, keep going forward, take down those you see if you can, retreat to my position at the first signs of a group larger than ten.”

“ _Understood._ ” Gunfire, and they sound sure and steady as they say, _“Tango, out.”  
_

_“Song_ ,” her handler says. She sounds dark and furious; she’s done babysitting her, it seems. “ _Keep firing_.” D.Va tightens her grip on the twin triggers in her hands, and from there, it’s a blur of red and guns and the steady betrayal of her breathing, her handler’s voice in her ear and her heart squeezed in her hands.

(She’ll clean the muck off of her mech, later, and no one in her squad will talk for the rest of the day - or for the rest of the week. Not really. How can they, when they have real human blood to clean off of their hands?)

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://snowsheba.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
